


Give me slow-burn love

by Florchis



Series: Pour your love on me [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, LLF Comment Project, Neck Kissing, Scotland, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: When Fitz asked her out after two months of shared early-mornings suffering, Skye said yes on autopilot, before realizing that she has a lot of reasons to agree.During their first date, in between telescopes and discussion of scottish islands, she finds out just how many reasons.





	Give me slow-burn love

**Author's Note:**

> Daisy goes by "Skye" here- intradiegetic reason- because she hasn't found out about her parents yet in this universe and- extradiegetic reason- because I so wanted to make that comment about Skye being an island in Scotland.

Title is from [here](https://medium.com/@krisgage/pour-your-love-on-me-b7028501a83).

* * *

She has to give Fitz credit: nobody has taken her stargazing for a first date before. (Or a second, or a third, or a tenth or any number of date, really.)

She has to give him _extra_ credit considering that, given the right set of circumstances, she was ready to jump into bed with him, and she is pretty sure that he at least suspects that, so him being willing to go this extra mile just because is something that tells her that she has judged him right.

(She wouldn’t say any of that out loud, of course. People would judge her for her willingness to have sex with someone on the first date, and she would have to say _Oh, no, it’s just because it’s_ him, _he is just_ that _special._ And yes, that would be true, but also, what’s wrong with two consenting adults having sex right away if they both feel like it? She will never understand that prejudice.)

She was ready to sleep with him; she just wasn’t ready to be _wooed_ by him.

He is nothing like she imagined he would be when they met two months ago during an intensive programming seminar, and maybe because he was not his type- _your type meaning_ _tall, dark and blandsome?,_ May would say with that judging tone that is one of the things Skye wishes she could acquire through nurture- she approached him with the excuse that they were both partner-less. It only took her a class or two to discover that it was one of the best decisions she could have made because his dry humor and his ability to keep up with everything she threw his way were some of the few things that made that mandatory-but-useless course bearable for her.

“Why are you even getting this degree?” He had asked her once during their usual break routine, where she tried to shake off the daze of the morning with a black coffee and he ate everything on sight that would prompt a crisis of hyperglycemia in a regular person. “You know everything they are teaching already, and in this field, you don’t need a degree to thrive, and you definitely don’t need the years of debt to come.”

Skye stole a chunk of his banana muffin- he made a big show of complaining, but it was only that, a show- and bit on it before replying.

“May thinks a degree will give me contacts and other kinds of skills, besides the programming itself that I can learn on my own.”

“Oh.” He tilted his head, considering her. “May is your, um, mum, then?”

Yes. No. But yes.

“It’s complicated.”

Fitz blinked, waiting for her to explain, but Skye only stole another piece of his muffin, holding his gaze.

“I can’t believe people _actually_ use that line in real life.”

“Maybe if you stay around long enough you will find out what _complicated_ means.”

He smiled at her then, and that smile left her breathless, though she tried to mask it out as a crump going down the wrong pipe.

“I’m planning on it.”

But she is digressing. Back to the first date. It only took him almost fifty days to gather the courage to ask her out, and Skye said yes on autopilot, before realizing that she could find reasons to say yes, because this guy was funny and smart and easy on the eyes, even if she probably wouldn’t have picked him out of a crowd. Maybe that was the ace under his sleeve, that he hadn’t blinded her at first sight but quite the opposite, he had sneaked up on her with shared jokes in a lovely accent and small invitations to intimacy and a general feeling of companionship.

So that is how they end up sitting on the hood of his battered, second-hand car after a dinner in a home-y, not fancy but enjoyable pub and her shivers are more from contentment than from the cold, but he still takes off his jacket and puts it over her shoulders. Skye is on the verge of teasing him for the gentlemanly gesture, but finally decides against it; she doesn’t think he will take it badly, but maybe it would give him the wrong signal, and she doesn’t want him to think she is not interested, because she is. She is even surprised herself to find out how very interested she is.

“I am glad you asked me out, Fitz.” He smiles at her and then opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him up to it. “If you had waited any longer, I might have seen you too much like a brother to say yes.”

She hasn’t meant to say that, dammit, who told her brain that it was okay to turn the filter off? _Why do you keep on boycotting yourself, Skye?_

She would have expected his face to fall or maybe even for him to break into nervous laughter to mask the awkwardness; she was not ready for the intensity of his eyes on her, his face serious but not angry.

“Then I’m glad that I did it too.”

He has the kind of eyes that makes you feel naked all the time, she realizes, maybe if not physically at least emotionally. She is shivering again and this time it is definitely not from the cold. She thinks that maybe he is about to kiss her now, and licks her lips in anticipation.

He is apparently full of surprises, because he doesn’t kiss her then, instead he lays back on the hood looking at the sky.

“You know, there is something that I have wanted to tell you ever since I met you, But I was afraid you were going to think I was trying to use a line on you.”

She mimics his posture and doesn’t look at him, but his body heat permeates all her layers.

“If there had ever been a moment for you to use a line on me, I think it would be this one.”

She wonders if he is smiling now, but she stands her ground and doesn’t look at him.

“Do you know that Skye is the name of an island? An island in, um, in Scotland.”

She sits up to avoid being choked with her own laughter.

“Oh, Fitz. Did you think that was _a line?_ Oh, Fitz.” He sits up too, and places a comforting hand on her back. She would like to know if he is blushing, too, but it is too dark to tell. “That was supposed to be your _winning line?”_    

He glares at her and yeah, because he still has that attitude in him is that she agreed to go out with him too.

“Excuse me if I was trying to be sweet and informative instead of, um, instead of, I don’t know, lewd and assuming!”

She takes his hand and places it on her tight. She might be laughing _at_ him, _with_ him-which is good, which is _so good-_ but he deserves to know that her heart is completely on this.

“Do you know what makes that fact even better? You know that is not my quote-unquote real name. It’s neither my birth name nor my legal name. But it is my _chosen_ name.”

His hand tightens his hold on hers, and Skye’s breath catches on her throat when he leans towards her. But instead of kissing her, _the bastard_ whispers in her ear.

“And I haven’t even shown you my telescope yet.”

Oh god, he is playing her the same way she usually plays him, he is teasing her, and fuck him if it isn’t working. She could even pat him proudly on the back if she weren’t so busy being turned on.

“Well, _yeah._ Who do you think I am, a rando who goes stargazing without a telescope? Chop, chop now.” He is smiling at her, delightfully, deliciously, deliriously, and Skye almost can’t bear it, so she shoves him playfully. “Set it up, champ.”

She remains sitting on the hood while he opens the trunk, takes out the box with the telescope and starts assembling it a few feet away from the car. She hasn’t gotten much of a chance before, but it’s such a pleasure to watch him work, his hands nimble and his movements precise and focused. She wonders what is on his mind, what expectations does he have about this night, and when she can not control her curiosity anymore she hops down and moves closer to him.

“Teach me?” 

“Of course.”

His smile makes her feel like a switch has been turned inside her head, and when before she could joke around with him like nobody’s business, now she feels like a girl waiting to be swept off her feet. God, she just hopes the ease to joke with him comes back, because she liked that aspect of their relationship very much.

“Fitz.” She takes a step closer to him, he is made of iron and she feels magnetic, a metaphor that she will be sure to not share with him _ever._ “Why did you ask me out?”

He looks taken aback by the question, and Skye realizes that he doesn’t live inside her head, he can’t hear her thoughts and probably he feels less certain than he looks.

“Why I, um, why not? Eh, um, do you, do you regret saying yes?”

“No, do you?” She moves even closer without waiting for an answer that she already knows, and she can almost hear him swallowing heavily. While she brings a hand up to trace the underside of his jaw- he shaved neatly, and she misses the messy stubble that he always wears on early morning classes-, she tries to convey with her eyes the same intensity that he used earlier on her; his lips are trembling, unlike her, who feels surer than ever.

“Um, let me show you how to use it?”

He seems dead set on not kissing her, and Skye tries to convince herself that it could be because of nerves and not because he is not attracted to her. _He was the one who asked you out, after all, and also he has been giving you bedroom eyes all night long, cut him some slack._

“Yeah, why not?” He kneels down on the blanket he placed next to the telescope and starts adjusting some knobs and checking through the lens the result he is getting. Skye kneels down next to him, as close as she can without plastering her body against his (or maybe even doing it a little). “Can I do it?”

He is looking at her, at a loss for words, and Skye boldly takes his hand and places it on her hip, while using her body weight to push him a little apart from the telescope. She leans forward to watch through the lens, not letting go of his hand, and if the movement makes his jacket fall off to pool at their knees and show off the curve of her neck and her shoulders, well, _oops?_

Fitz’s breathing is ragged behind her, and _good,_ that’s good. She keeps him close while he helps her turn the little bits and pieces one way or the other, but it’s all a pretense, because he does not ask her what she is seeing- even though she wouldn’t be surprised if he were able to somehow set it up just from memory- and, full disclosure, she is just too distracted by the feeling and the scent of his body to actually _see_ anything.

She traces the line of her collarbone with the hand that is not holding his, her arm doing an open and slow movement, a full display of seduction, and the weight of his gaze on her skin feels like a brand. When his hand starts trembling against her hip, she gives up all pretense and just molds her back against his front, his other arm going instinctively to hold her waist.

“Fitz?” She sounds husky, and it’s not a surprise that desire makes her sound more desirable. “The stars and the island in Scotland and the banter and the gentlemanly persona are all very nice, but how many more times do I have to bat my eyelashes at you before you kiss me?”

She says it without pause to not second-guess her guts, and without looking at him to give him the chance of backtracking if he needs it, without putting herself through the humiliation of having to witness it. Really, it’s a perfect position.

She was either expecting him to run, or stammer his way through an excuse, or turn her around and finally, _finally_ kiss her. Instead, the unexpected feeling of his lips against the skin of her left shoulder sends a powerful shiver through her whole body. His lips are cold, a stark contrast against the warm hand he is using to push her hair apart from her neck.

“Fitz? Are, um, are you…?” The question dies on her tongue because he just keeps up the path of his lips on her neck, kissing and nibbling gently, his arm tightening around her waist.

_Imagine how nice it will feel next time, when it is early morning and he hasn’t shaved since the night before and the brush of his stubble against the sensitive skin of your neck._

Wait a minute.

_Next time?_

“How is that for kissing, um?” He is snickering against her skin, and Skye rolls her eyes, half in annoyance, half in pleasure, even though he can’t see her.

“Oh, shut up. Just shut up.“ She takes her arm back to tangle her fingers on his curls and keep his face pressed against her.

“Or what?” Fitz’s breath puts the light hairs at the nape of her neck on end, and she is never going to wear a jacket again in her life if he is going to hold her like this.

“Or I will have to turn around and kiss you properly.” He bites gently on her earlobe then and Skye manages to close her eyes while exhaling soundly to suppress a moan. “But maybe later.”

If she has any saying on the matter, there will be plenty of _later_ for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, maybe this will help me power through writting the Fitzskimmons story that happens ten years after this!
> 
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * This author replies to comments.
> 



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